The Day The Music Died
by katie kerosene
Summary: this story popped into my head while I was listening to American Pie by Don Mclean. Enjoy ! :D
1. Chapter 1

I was walking along the streets of London, listening to the silence that had engulfed the town where I had a dwelling and the world on which I lived. I had gotten used to the quiet about a year after it started.

It feels like the devil had come one earth and changed everything and then went back to hell to watch us all squirm. That may not be what had happened but it certainly seems that way sometimes. You might be wondering what "it" is that happened to make the world like this or let alone who is telling this story. Well, I shall start with who I am, my name is Randal Hatchet and I am 43 years old and I had a wife and kids once but I will get to that later. I work at a factory just down the road from my house that prints newspapers. Now I shall tell you what "it" is that happened that changed the world forever.

Well the year now is 2031, and I remember that it was 10 years ago. I was 33 at the time and getting close to the 34th year of my life. There were crowds in the streets and I was in that crowd with my wife. Her name was Patricia. The people around us were shouting protests as I had my arm around Patricia's shoulders. We began shouting along with them. Why were we shouting you might ask? Well, you see, the government had had enough with the violence, the violent ideas and free willed ideas we got from music. They believed that music, not certain genres but old and new music, were the reason for all the violence in the world and for all the pain and horror that we all knew was their fault to begin with. The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom had called a press conference to explain the government's views and what they were going to do about it and then a crowd formed and we all began protesting that they shouldn't do and what they were planning on doing. And what they were planning on doing was to close every store that sells music or musical instruments in the city to close. They declared that music was banned from the whole country and that other governments were in on this act and they were taking any music from the world away…Taking away everything that made sense, what helped us understand things, what made us laugh and what made us cry. And from that day forward, the whole world was engulfed in silence.

From that day forward, they put hidden microphones all around the people's houses and, anyone caught singing; dancing, listening to or playing music was taken away and never seen again; there were no more television shows or commercials with music in them. No more musicals, no more dances. That was the day the music died.

Over the years the suicide rates had gone up but they were later steadied as the government found ways to keep us in order by making us all like brainwashed clones. Which we were in a sense until everyone just forgot that music ever existed and got used to the fact that it was never coming back.

Children were born and grew up never knowing the sounds that we all grew up with the help of our parents and grandparents, friends and cousins. The world slowly changed and no one did anything about it they just become content with the truth.

What happened to my life after that? Well I went along with it like all the others did, my wife did too, but we were two of the slower ones that were getting used to it. About two years later as the suicides were ending slowly; Patricia and I had two children, a son and a daughter named Laura and William, twins. I myself was not very keen on raising children without them knowing the great artists of our past, but it was what Patricia wanted so I gave in and let her dream come true. She had always wanted kids, ever since we were married in 2019. Though we married young, we were happy together. What happened to them you ask? Well a year later my wife was caught unconsciously humming a tune while grocery shopping with the children and that night, her and the children were taken away and I haven't seen them since.

I miss them dearly and wish that the times hadn't changed the way they did when the music died. Life had gotten lonely since then and I was alone more often than I used to be...

I was now walking home from work, remembering the days of old. Of course I was stone faced just like the others walking in other directions around me so there was no evidence of what I was thinking about. I eventually got to my flat and walked in the door and hung up my coat. I boiled up some water for tea and waited patiently for it at the table. I began reading the rest of the morning paper. The stories in the newspapers nowadays were filled with the government's success with keeping the city at peace. There were no more wars going on and all that was left to talk about was stocks, business, the government and helping with causes having to do with the homeless and poverty and helping out other countries with causes that the government was doing here that was "revolutionizing society". There wasn't an entertainment section anymore, so every paper was filled with that rubbish.

I put the paper down and looked blankly out onto the street outside my flat. As I stared, something caught my eye, a mother and her son, no older than five at the least, walking hand in hand to the bus stop halfway down the road. My subconscious took over and I pictured the mother and child as Patricia and the children. I sighed and looked away at the walls where the pictures had been. When my family was taken, the people that came for them took the only reminders I had of them along with them. I smiled to myself remembering how lucky I was to still remember those good times as clearly as I did. But when I think of that night, I remember that they will eventually come for _me_ because Patricia had told me what she had done, but luckily they hadn't considered that at the time.

The kettle went off and I came out of my reverie and got up. I poured myself some hot water and put the teabag I had taken from the cupboard in it. I let it steep a bit then threw it out and put some milk in the mug. I stirred it around then brought the mug back to the table and let it warm my hands for a little bit. I had barely taken a sip when the doorbell rang.

I looked behind me at the door. I hesitated a little then got up and went to the door. I opened it and looked up to see two men in suits and ties and had squared shoulders and wore sunglasses. One had a mustache. They had stern looks on their faces.

"Are you the one called Randal Hatchet?" the one with the mustache asked.

I shivered the slightest bit in fear. They were the same men who had come for my wife and children seven years earlier. This was it…they had come for me…

I nodded in attempted calmness.

"We need you to come with us" said the shaved one. They each grabbed one of my arms and closed my door then led me to a large van that was parked on the curb across the lawn. When they got me to the van, they handcuffed my hands behind my back then helped me into the back seat of the van. The shaved one got in beside me while the other one with the mustache got in the driver's seat and handed the shaved man a syringe filled with a clear and foggy-looking substance in it. I stared in horror as the shaved man took the top of the syringe and rolled up my shirt exposing my naval. He saw the look on my face then a faint smiled play on his face. He plunged the needle into my side and a sharp pain radiated from the spot where he had pierced my skin. He finished emptying the substance into my system and in an instant I lost feeling in my whole lower body then in the next matter of seconds I lost the feeling in my upper body. I started to feel very weak and I leaned my head back against the seat, then rolling my head to look away from the shaved man and looked out the window. I swore, for the smallest second that I saw my wife and children looking back at me, tears falling from their eyes before my vision went black.


	2. Chapter 2

When I woke again, or so I thought since my eyes were still in darkness, I was being dragged down a long corridor by my arms with my legs dragging on the ground. I was no longer in the handcuffs from before. These ones seemed like the same thing but longer, long enough that whoever it was that was carrying me could hold each of my arms at shoulder length. I remained silent afraid of what would happen if I made any sign that I had awakened. Whatever it was that shaved man had given me knocked me out like the plague, and given me a _splitting_ headache.

Another thing that was going on in my mind as I was still being dragged down the corridor was the hallucination that I had before I blacked out. That heartbreaking image of my wife and children watching me with tears in their eyes...

I felt so helpless thinking about that again, I had held it off for a week before it came back again that day after work. It hurt too much to think about how my wife's face had looked, all that fear in her eyes while she looked me in the eyes that one last time before she was gone forever.

My thoughts came back to where I was abruptly as we had stopped. I heard the sounds of a something being typed onto a key pad following the click of a lock then a heavy door swinging open. I kept my eyes closed in further attempt to make my captors think that I was still out. I felt someone take something like a blind fold from my eyes and brightness lit up from in front of my eyelids. They dragged me a little bit further and dropped my arms causing me to bang my chin on the floor. Pain surged through my head and my mouth.

I heard the door close again and lock. I waited a little while for them to walk away then tried with all my strength to pick myself up with very little success. I barely even had the strength to pick my arms up let alone use them to pick my whole body up. It was either a side effect from the injection or it hadn't totally worn off yet. I opened my eyes slowly which took a lot of my will power because of the protest of my lids from the light. When I finally got them open I was blinded by a very bright light that lit up the grey room. I found the strength to roll myself over onto my back and did so. I cringed from the light and my arm reflexively came in front of my eyes. I lay there for what felt like hours as I felt the effect wear off along with my strength coming back and my eyes adjusting.

I slowly and stiffly sat up and in the process got myself on to my feet. I staggered caught myself on the wall. I felt my jaw making sure it was still intact then, for the first time since I was dragged in here, I looked around at the God forsaken room I was in. I was in a four walled cell with a big silver door and a very high ceiling. There were two fold out benches across from each other, one beside me and one on the other side of the room. There was also a "hidden" camera that was very visible, in the northwest corner of the ceiling and it was cold in the cell and I sat down instinctively on the bench closest to me and pulled my knees to my chest rubbing my arms.

I glanced up at the camera then began staring at the wall. I did so for what felt like ages but I bet was only an hour or so. I thought about why I was here and how I had it coming. I had never done anything wrong in my life, but the single act of Patricia telling me of what she had done, the fact that I had known had brought me here. To the place they took my family seven years ago and did God knows what to them. I didn't know what had happened to them here and I didn't want to know. But I was soon to find out.

I heard footsteps walking down the corridor and stopping in front of my cell door. I didn't look over at the door when it opened to reveal two square shouldered figures.

"HACHET 4119!" boomed one of the men, making me jump a little. I still didn't look up.

He called that name to me again and I continued to stare at the wall, not wanting to give in so easily. From the corner of my eye I saw one of them, likely the one who called me by that name, and punched me hard in the face causing my body to fling to the left. I sat up and leaned on my elbow and spit the blood from my mouth. The man picked me up by my scruff and forced me to look in his eyes. This man was blonde and as I glanced past him the other one had brown hair. I looked him straight in the eyes.

"NOW YOU LISTEN TO ME 4119," he shouted in my face. "YOU WILL LISTEN AND RESPOND WHEN YOU ARE SPOKEN TO, DO YOU UNDERSTAND YOU FILTHY BASTARD?"

I nodded obediently and this time he punched me harder in the gut and let me fall to my knees. I kneeled there gasping for breath, holding my torso and groaning in pain. I heard the two men walk to my sides and took my arms like before, which made the pain just that much worse, and dragged me out of the cell. I hung my head as they walked, my breathing still hoarse from the blow and it was that way until we got to our destination. They dragged me in then closed the door and the blonde one stood me up against the wall and began punching me multiple times in the stomach and my face. I was so weak at that point, the only thing that was stopping me from falling to the ground again was the blonde man's arm holding me up. As the blonde man beat me the brown haired man sat there at a table in the middle of the room watching, a serious look on his face.

"That's enough" he finally said. The blonde man had been just about to punch me in the gut again and he looked back at the brown haired man and nodded then proceeded on the last blow and carried me by my shirt, now stained with blood, to the chair opposite the brown haired man. I spit the blood from my mouth and gasped for breath hunched over in my seat, holding my torso. I finally looked up and glared at the blonde man, then shifted my gaze to the brown haired man who looked through the papers in front of him. He found what he was looking for and looked up at me.

For the next three hours or so, they questioned me and me, once and a while looking at the blonde one who would crack his knuckles when I was debating on answering got me to make my decision fast. They asked me about that day when my wife had committed that "crime" of humming in front of the children at the grocery store. They asked me how I found out and why I didn't say anything about what I knew and some of this other bullocks about how well I know the law and why it's there and how, since I was there on that "revolutionary" day, I had forgotten it.

I answered all of the questions easily, not wanting to get the crap beaten out of me again, but in the end it was inevitable, either way the blonde one beat me some more just for fun, and then they carried me by my arms and legs back to my cell and threw me on to the floor.

"Until tomorrow, traitor" the blonde man said seriously. "If the Prime Minister lets you last the night, let alone the week" and with that they left and closed the door leaving me helpless and in pain on the cold stone ground.

I took a deep breath and got up on to the bench and lay down. As I lay there I realized that I had never in my life been in that much physical pain before and it wasn't very pleasant at all, and it wasn't going to be the last time that I would go through that during my time here, however long it was going to be. My body was shaking in pain and I curled up into the fetal position facing away from the wall and tried to regulate my breathing back to normal while also trying to calm the shaking. All of a sudden the lights on the ceiling went out making the only light the lights in the corridor shining into the windowless cell from the small window of the door. I finally calmed down and the pain numbed and I eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next day they beat me and questioned me again, with different questions than the day before. This routine went on for the rest of the week. The men had somehow thought up new questions all on the same subject, the reason I was in that prison in the first place, and every time they brought me to that room, the blonde man beat me leaving me weak and vulnerable, giving them that sense of power over me they felt they needed to remind me of every time they saw me. And they were the only other people in that whole place that I saw while I was there besides the occasional doctor coming into the cell to see if I was still alive. I was surprised that they cared that much whether I was alive or dead before they saw me again. I suspected it was because they wanted to kill me themselves rather than have me die in the cell of sickness or suicide. I had thought about killing myself in the cell, but I never had the strength to do it, which again, I bet they had anticipated. They also fed me once a day, so I wouldn't throw up while I was being beaten.

But, little did I know that buy the Monday or Tuesday or so I had counted, of the next week, would literally change my life a second time but even more permanently this time.

The men had taken me to that room and beaten me as usual but that day I noticed they didn't question me. This time, they brought me to another room on the other side of the building I guessed, because they never went up or down any stairs, just kept walking until they abruptly stopped. I noticed that we had gone by something that looked like it could have been a gas chamber and at that moment I knew what they were going to do and I was wondered why they hadn't stopped there. They forced me to stand, opened the door and walked me into the room and strapped me to the wall, my arms over my head. The room was very similar to the cell but here the walls were white and there was a window that was half mirror and half window, high enough that only my shoulders and up were all I could see, with the mirror side facing the inside of the room.

"If you're going to kill me, then why didn't you stop at the gas chambers?" I said in a raspy voice, a result of getting punched in the gut very hard, on a day to day basis. The blonde man smiled at me as the brown haired man turned and left the room.

"We wanted to watch you die a slow and painful death to show you how severe your crime is" he chuckled punching me one last time in the face. I coughed and spit the blood from my mouth yet again. The man laughed again then left the room to join the other one I suspected, on the other side of the mirror window.

A few minutes later, a small part of the wall that I was facing opened up slowly to reveal a solid looking tube that looked like the front barrel part of a rifle. A slight click echoed in the room than half a second later a loud bang rang out and something hit me hard in my side under my ribs and pierced my skin and the wind was knocked out of me. A white hot pain shot through me and numbed my body. I felt my blood seep from the wound and through my shirt and I looked down at it, a dumbfounded look on my face. I looked back up at the mirror. Then, in a matter of ten seconds, the rifle like gun shot me four more times in different places on my torso. Even though I was still all numb from the first shot, I felt every new bullet tear through my skin and implant itself in my body and I felt a bit of blood fall from my mouth. I hung my head staring at the ground as struggled to breath with the bullets in my body and my vision began to fade slowly. I looked up at the mirror again and saw my family again. This time they were smiling and waving at me, flagging for me to join them. I gave them a weak bloody smile then looked back down and felt my breathing slow till my last breath and for the second and final time, my vision went black.


End file.
